and the arms of the ocean are carrying me
by a vegetable
Summary: It is hard not to fall in love with someone like Jake English, not when said someone is so gloriously enraptured in the beauty of the universe that they become peacefully oblivious to how beautiful they are. Merstuck.


_A/N: Merstuck b/c merperson Dirk hear me out here. Title from Never Let Me Go by Florence + the Machine._

If by beauty things be judged then Jake English would have had no qualms with this world. Somehow, for all his commotion, his babel and the bedlams he caused, Jake English saw beauty in everything, and took time to admire the world. Through the eyes of a child, some may say, Jake found himself lost in awe at whatever spectacle nature could create. Jake was a boy of the wilderness, his skin the colour and scent of the earth and his eyes a green to rival any jungle. At home amongst the trees, amongst grassland, amongst rocky mountain ranges, he lived with the wisdom and knowledge of any animal that traversed such versatile terrain.

Everything was gorgeous to Jake. Every wispy cloud, every poison skinned dart frog, every carefully spun spider's web, every sunset to every moon rise. The boy, innocent and pure as he was, could not bring himself to dislike a single strand of Mother Nature's finely woven cloth. He appreciated every presence in his life, and found no way to feel opposed to the simple majesty of the world around him.

You think, perhaps, this is why you fell in love with him.

It is hard not to fall in love with someone like Jake English, not when said someone is so gloriously enraptured in the beauty of the universe that they become peacefully oblivious to how beautiful _they_ are. That was your first thought, when you saw him paddling in the shallows that evening, a hazy red glow from the sun cast over his skin like a mist: Good god, he's beautiful.

Bare, all but for his swimming shorts, you could see every inch of his wonderful brown skin, the richest colour you could imagine, and the golden light of sunset lit up his every curve and angle. His face was round, in the way that some teenagers look pre-pubescent (and some look like fully-fledged adults), he had soft features, soft eyes, teeth in dire need of straightening, yet for some reason you didn't think you'd want anything to change about his face. Or his body for that matter, which was small and compact with just the slightest roll of squish over the edge of his shorts. You didn't mind the chub though; you couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to sink your fingers into it as you wrap him up in your arms.

In a fleeting moment, a moment that could have a seagull's wing beat or the rise and fall of a shimmering wave, his eyes (dreamy, viridian, deeper than the ocean you reside in and have seen the very depths of) met yours (embarrassing, obscure amber, stark and irritating in comparison to your blanched skin and hair) and the metaphorical lightning struck. Your metaphorical ship sunk to the bottom of the metaphorical ocean and splinters. Splinters, splinters, splinters until all those piece found their way back to him. They accumulated in the palms of his bronzed hands and as he waded forward, hook, line and sinker on the spur of a visceral action, he pieced them back together and became his.

That is to say, the moment Jake English started towards you, your heart already belonged to him, and as it beat in his hands you felt as though his heart was moving too. It was a decision, made when you locked gazes, just inches from each other, and he was overcome with wonder, and you were already in love with a buck-toothed smile and a pair of leafy eyes, that this exchange of hearts would not go to waste.

You were sure you'd lost your mind, by the time he'd run a reverent hand over the surface of your translucent skin, fingers coming to a halt at the division of azure between your waist and something, you could tell by that look in his eyes that he thought, something not quite _legs_. But ever curious his hands had driven below a barricade of water and pressed to sun burnished scales and in return you had placed the back of a palm to his cheek. His hands rose again, brushed over you ribs, to flutter beneath slits in the skin, lined with fins like imitations of expensive lace. A single hand, with thumb and forefinger pressed against the harsh angle of your jaw, tracing the geometric shapes of your face and eventually coming to rest on your shoulder.

You did nothing more than run a crooked hand down his back, catching the bumps of his spine on webbed fingers and accommodating against his hip.

An agreement was sealed when the two of you kissed.

Something within you stirred that day, and the next, and the next. And each day that Jake English ran to the beach only to fling himself to the waves, into your arms, against your chest, on your lips, the something that stirred became a something that shook and trembled and pulsated with delight at every mention of that beautiful boy. Perhaps the something was your heart, previously untouched, unloved and near enough forgotten. You weren't even sure you had a heart for a long time, until you remembered that every creature need as heart to survive, because unless it is there, as the primary conductor of respiration, you would die. Only jellyfish don't need hearts, and this is because they have no blood. Their skin is so thin that they can absorb the oxygen in the water around them, and then expel it easily again. You are not a jellyfish, not biologically by any means. You have a heart, not easily permeated skin. You heart, however, has run away in your chest and now belongs to Jake English. Even though you know the heart has nothing to do with your emotions – hell, it still feels like it will break your ribcage every time you kiss that fumbling idiot.

For every visit the something swells inside you, grows bigger and fonder. His touches fill you with a heat that simply cannot be extinguished. He lit a match when you first saw him that mild summer evening; he only really started the fire when he said he loved you for the first time.

"You are quite the beautiful creature, you know that, don't you?" he had muttered, waist deep in the water as you swam loops around him. You tried, with every ounce of what little self-control you had, to ignore his compliments. You appreciated them, yes, and every time he called you gorgeous, or intelligent, or funny your chest fluttered something terrible, but you couldn't hear them. You couldn't hear them because doing so would be admitting you love him, and you knew you did, of course you did, but you knew that really you could never be with him. Not when your home is the ocean and his is the land. "A lonely one too." He laughed quietly as you paused, rising behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist. "God, what I would do to make sure you never felt lonely again, Strider." You ignored it. You listened to him breathe and you kissed his neck, and he shivered into the contact and held your wrists like they were lifelines. "I wish you would listen. I know you try not to."

A sigh. A terrible empty sigh that filled you with regret and made you want to hold this poor boy in your arms forever.

"But you are such a terrible worrier, Dirk. I know you're scared, and I don't want you to be, there is no reason as to why we can't be happy, despite any –" a brushing hand at your fins illustrated, "- _biological_ differences."

You kept kissing his neck because he tasted like salt and sea air and _home_ and you knew that to you home should be the depths of the ocean, but really it was here, with Jake in your arms and his voice hushed in your ear.

"Because I want to be with you." He sighed, and sunk to his knees. When he sits the water reaches his shoulders, and the sway of the current almost knocked him over. You curled around behind him, body and tail supporting him. He rested his hand on your tail, as he would the bend of his own knee, or the bend of yours had you had legs, "Because you're beautiful and smart and funny and," he breathes, the wind stops hissing for a second, every grain of sand stills and the ocean lies waveless like a sheet of glass. "And I really do love you." the wind is still gone, "That is to say I am _in_ love with you and I want to spend the rest of my days by your side."

Pretending that you're not from different worlds didn't help, because no matter how long Jake sat in the water with his eyes locked on you, every inch of him loving and caring and radiating affection, it couldn't stop him from being bound to the land. And no amount of time spent dragging yourself to sit amongst the rock pools or to lie against the golden sand of the beach could make up for the fact that you were no more able to walk with him to his home than he was to swim with you to the deepest depths of the ocean. You wished he could. You wished you could discard the reality of crushing pressure that would destroy a creature like him with such a small lung capacity. Be it as it may, it's morbid, thinking of these things, but what are your kind other than known for dragging love-struck sailors to their demise deep beneath the black waves. Jake, though love-struck, was not a sailor, and you may not have been dragging him beneath the waves but you were locking him in a relationship with no future. No chance of living together, no getting married, no having children, no growing old in each other's arms whilst the world keeps moving.

You think you hated yourself – just a bit.

"Stop crying, Dirk." You didn't know what he was talking about until there was a thumb at your cheek and a palm wiping away tears that otherwise would have been lost to the constant moisture on your cheeks. Jake's hands wandered to your hair, settled amongst the locks stiffened by salt, and smiles. "Don't be upset darling."

He crooned into your ear, a sweet, pure song of love and desire and want to just hold you by his side. You felt the same strain in your heart – your heart that does not feel love but your heart that pumps blood around your body to keep you alive and grows in size tenfold whenever you are near Jake English and which threatens now to be punctured upon your ribs and to crush your lungs into submission – and you fell into an embrace.

"We may not be able to live together." His breath was warm against your arms as you wrapped them around his neck and pressed gentle kisses to where ever you could press them, "And we may not be able to get married or have children, but the fact that you're always here." the sea glistened with the light of the sun setting on a mild summer evening, "When I come in the morning and I find you waiting." The stars spun beneath the cover of a reddening sky and the evening became quiet, "It means more to me than any marriage proposal could. And it lets me know that," the ocean held the both of you in its cradle hold, Mother Nature cooing at your love, "If we could, if we lived in the same worlds," you think the whole world could have sat still for you then, and just watched in blissful harmony because, hell if Jake English waxing poetic wasn't just the most beautiful thing you'd ever heard, "Then you would be more than happy to take my hand and marry me and carry me off someplace nice." His voice was quiet and peaceful, like he didn't want to ruin a moment of words with more words, yet he was doing it anyway, "And we would have a family and we'd grow old together," You felt nothing but love for this boy. "In each other's arms." Young and lovesick and clueless yet offering his soul to you with open hands. "But for now I know that can't happen." Oh, _oh darling_ , why couldn't you make it happen. "For now I'm content with meeting you here. Losing myself in you. That's all I want."

In that moment all was well in the world. _Yes_. You thought. _That's all I want too._


End file.
